deck the halls with misanthropy
As if christmas itself wasn't depressing enough, some sadists insist on covering their houses in decorations. At any other time of year, or in any other form, this would be considered anti-social behaviour. Why stop with festive decorations? If you've got a beef with a neighbour why not stick an illuminated picture of a cock on your roof, with the words "Terry Wilson at No.6 is Gay"? Or how about "JD luvs GS, IDST" in two-metre letters?
Now some of this desperate public jollity is being santimoniously justified on the grounds of charity. Every evening the local t.v. news interviews another householder inflicting their visual pollution on the neighbourhood. And every evening the householder in question says something like,
"Yeah, we do it for charity. People come from as far away as Frodsham to look at the lights, and they leave money for 'Bless 'em all', the charity for urchins with head cancer. Like that brave little Jamie off of the news. I saw his plight on t.v., he's only six but his head's going to turn black and drop off by the time he's eight. We'd like to raise money for research into more effective treatment and an eventual cure. And one pound in every five goes into a fund to grant each child with head cancer a special wish. With that money children can be sent for the trip of a lifetime to Disneyland or Centerparcs, so their last memories will be happy ones. It can even allow them to die with dignity at home, lying in an oxygen tent and able to see their family. Like little Jamie, his last rasping breaths wracking his emaciated frame: 'Mummy, will Santa bring me a new head for Christmas?', 'I don't think he can Jamie. But if you're good he might bring you some wings.' It makes it even more special to think that children with cancer-heads will benefit. And it's a bit of harmless fun."
And these are the same people who object to living near eletric pylons on the grounds it makes you impotent, or think mobile phone masts convert bone-marrow into leukemia. Yet somehow a collection of poorly insulated, mass-produced decorations from your local DIY store are a transformative social good.
Now some of this desperate public jollity is being santimoniously justified on the grounds of charity. Every evening the local t.v. news interviews another householder inflicting their visual pollution on the neighbourhood. And every evening the householder in question says something like,
"Yeah, we do it for charity. People come from as far away as Frodsham to look at the lights, and they leave money for 'Bless 'em all', the charity for urchins with head cancer. Like that brave little Jamie off of the news. I saw his plight on t.v., he's only six but his head's going to turn black and drop off by the time he's eight. We'd like to raise money for research into more effective treatment and an eventual cure. And one pound in every five goes into a fund to grant each child with head cancer a special wish. With that money children can be sent for the trip of a lifetime to Disneyland or Centerparcs, so their last memories will be happy ones. It can even allow them to die with dignity at home, lying in an oxygen tent and able to see their family. Like little Jamie, his last rasping breaths wracking his emaciated frame: 'Mummy, will Santa bring me a new head for Christmas?', 'I don't think he can Jamie. But if you're good he might bring you some wings.' It makes it even more special to think that children with cancer-heads will benefit. And it's a bit of harmless fun."
And these are the same people who object to living near eletric pylons on the grounds it makes you impotent, or think mobile phone masts convert bone-marrow into leukemia. Yet somehow a collection of poorly insulated, mass-produced decorations from your local DIY store are a transformative social good.
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